Like Father, Like Son
by Tommy T of Taco Bell
Summary: A case brings Peter and Neal to Los Angeles, where the latter is apprehensively reunited with his biological father. Chloe and Peter bond over their friendship/hatred of their respective informants.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

* * *

 _ **"Someone's escaped from Hell."** Amenadiel looked up, surprise evident on his usually expressionless face. Lucifer gave a half shrug, not sure how to explain. "Must have seen a window of opportunity whilst you were… Incapacitated. I think He wants me to bring our jailbird back."_

 _"It shouldn't be too hard to track down a single errant soul." His brother assured him, taking a sip of his drink. Lucifer merely nodded, out of focus as he drank as well. Noticing his discomfort, Amenadiel lowered his cup, confused. "You're afraid."_

 _Lucifer swallowed, nodding. "Damn right I am."_

 _"Right, but you're never afraid. Who could possibly scare you, brother?"_

 _He stayed silent, focusing on a point in the distance and attempting to calm himself. His brother pressed. "Lucifer. Who escaped Hell?"_

 _They met each other's eyes. Time seemed to slow down in anticipation, before he replied. His voice was quiet, his expressions and mannerism a mere shadow of his usual boisterous self._

 _"Lucifer..."_

 _"My son."_

* * *

 **It was easier than expected to return to normal.** Dan was off the hook after hours of explanations of… Well, everything. Lucifer had cleaned up nicely and returned to his usual antics, and he and Chloe were back to solving cases together. The only difference was a lack of Maze, but at Chloe's questioning, Lucifer simply waved her off. She was on vacation, he told her, and Chloe didn't push. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

She didn't question it, however. For a while, she wanted simplicity. She wanted… Normal. And considering she worked with someone who went by the name Lucifer Morningstar, it was difficult to dig into things without her life getting into 'weird' territory. The weirdest thing in the past month was currently happening, and that was just a murder that was tied to a New York white collar case.

David Baumann, general playboy and son of a billionaire, found murdered in his apartment in LA two weeks after his mansion in New York was broken into, paintings slashed. After further investigation, it was said that there was only one painting that wasn't in New York, that was supposed to be- The Fifth Seal, an anonymous painting thousands of years old. It was rumored that the painting was in LA, so Chloe assumed that it was their job to find it- find the painting, find the killer. She didn't figure that they would bring the FBI into it.

The murder was tied in with another three crimes, apparently. Each painting was one in a set. There weren't usually many 'set' murders about art in LA, people cared more for money than for art, so she was surprised to hear that the FBI (all the way from _New York,_ no less) were waiting for her. Making her way down to her desk, she studied the two men waiting patiently.

Well, patiently really only worked to describe one of them. The older one- brown hair, dark eyes, was politely impatient. He seemed more of an agent than the other, younger male- dark hair, nice suit, and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. Her eyes caught sight of a lump near the younger one's ankle, and she grimaced slightly. They already had one troublesome _civilian_ informant on this case, a criminal one wasn't necessary. But she didn't say anything, instead closing the distance and holding her hand out to them. When the older one caught sight of her, he turned to face her, meeting and shaking her hand.

"Detective Chloe Decker?" He asked, and at her nod, he continued. "I'm Agent Peter Burke, this is Ne-"

He was gone.

"Neal?" He called out, looking in the general vicinity for any attractive officers that would have gotten his attention. Chloe raised an eyebrow, but she wasn't able to say anything on it- her informant tended to get lost quickly, too. It was probably better for them to not meet, anyways-

"Agent Burke? It's an honor, I've never met a decent FBI agent before." Speak of the Devil. Peter's hand was grabbed and shaken, and Chloe rolled her eyes before introducing her informant.

"Agent Burke, this is Lucifer Morningstar, he's-"

"Charmed to meet you." He flashed the agent a smile, and Peter returned a tight one in return, figuring that he was smart and charming, but odd- a bit like Neal, in a way. Speaking of him, where had he gone? Peter knew he could continue without him, but really, disappearing after it had taken them so long to convince Hughes to let him come?

"So, what do you have so far on the case?"

* * *

 **They didn't have much.** Only one of the three victims had died right away- the first one, murdered before the painting was taken. There was a sign of struggle, but the thief was victorious. The second one went off to fight in Afghanistan, and wasn't here for questioning. The third got fatally ill and died, but toxicology reports had no signs of poison in the stream- he just 'got really sick.' And this last one had no distinguishable cause of death, he just… Died. Neal was very anxious about all of it, and was happy that this involved limited undercover work- meaning he was stuck at deskwork, not anywhere near the paintings. His actions were suspicious to Peter, his lack of complaining when told it was mostly paperwork and information only barely topping the fact that he didn't have a witty comment when Peter showed him the paintings. After a brief introduction to Detective Decker, Neal went right into explaining the four pictures of the missing paintings.

"They're a set. Except for the fifth, which was replaced by _Opening the Fifth Seal_ by El Greco, the Seven Seals set is centuries old, anonymously painted."

"What happened to the original fifth?" Chloe questioned, her brows furrowing in thought. This was something right up Lucifer's persona's alley, religious, expensive, and apocalyptic. "Wouldn't the thief know it was missing if he was interested in it?"

"No one knows. Some say the set was cursed to bring upon the apocalypse, if they came in contact with a single believer intent on starting the end of the world. It's likely that the fifth was destroyed by a believer to stop that from happening."

"Or hidden." She interrupted. Peter turned to her, and she explained her thought process. "If someone believed this curse thing, they might collect as many paintings as they could- have them all ready, for when they wanted to try and destroy the world."

"It's been missing for thousands of years." Neal pressed, and his handler turned to him, raising his eyebrows at the tone of Neal's voice. "The rumors likely weren't even around before it disappeared."

"I'll have Jones and Barrigan set up a few officers at the Met, in case someone thinks the replacement is enough and tries to steal El Greco's. We'll have enough time to go at multiple angles to get whoever did this."

"He's being loud enough to catch a fence's attention." Neal stated suddenly, pulling his phone out and seeing if he could find a picture of Fifth Seal. "I could get a replica in a couple of days."

"Get?" Chloe repeated, and Peter clarified.

"Paint. Which would then be taken in as evidence once we get the guy because _no, Neal, you are not pretending your art is a thousand years missing painting for anything other than the case."_

Neal gave a shrug, his smile not falling off of his face at Peter's lecture.

* * *

 **There were three ways they were going- One, the replica painted by Neal.** Two, the Met, in case the thief was bold or stupid enough. And lastly, paperwork. Lucifer easily shoved the papers onto Dan, telling him to help and pick out anyone that was a) religious, b) capable of murder, and c) enjoyed art.

As of now, all they could do was wait and search for any rumors of the location of the Fifth Seal, as Neal painted. He needed a 7'6" by 6'7" canvas, to replicate the size of the original painting- _"This is why El Greco's is a replacement, it's the exact length and height-"_ -paint, and a quiet, temperature controlled room.

Detective Decker was able to provide the first two, and Peter was happy to stay out of the motel for the quiet room- "The temperature of the room? Really?" -but their plan was put to the test when Lucifer got involved.

"If you want a bigger empty room with temperature control, my study can easily accommodate."

Neal tensed. Peter had only seen Neal tense around a few people, and those people ended up being corrupt, murderers, or both. But Peter had to give him credit, as he met Lucifer's eyes, politely declining.

"Oh no, I insist!" Lucifer pressed, moving closer. Neal attempted to keep his gaze, but had to look away. "I would gladly help in the somewhat illegal actions of an informant."

Neal actually looked Peter's way, pleading with him to not make him go with Lucifer, but Peter could only shrug. He wanted temperature control, he got it. The agent would just make sure to keep Neal company whenever he could, or at the very least have Detective Decker keep Lucifer distracted and away.

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Morningstar, we'll be by in an hour."

* * *

 **A/N: I know I should be working on my other projects but this ideaaaaaa**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

* * *

 **Neal and Peter had arrived forty five minutes later, the former holding a large case filled with various paints and the latter a large canvas**. The ex-con had no qualms about entering the Lux, noting the lack of guests and dancers upon first entry. Really, the only person he saw was Lucifer, at the bar with a drink in his hand, who looked up when the two came in.

"Agent Burke, Mr. Caffrey, a pleasure to see you two again!" He greeted, getting up with three cups balancing in his hands, offering two to his guests. Peter declined politely, saying he was still on the job, and Neal saying he didn't want a careless hand. Lucifer merely winked at his excuse before taking a last drink, setting it on the counter and gesturing for them to follow up the stairs.

"I'm assuming that my study's usual temperature is alright, considering how well the paintings in there have stayed." He commented casually, opening the door to reveal the room. Black and glass, with accents of red here and there. But Neal's eyes were drawn to a particular painting.

"You have the lost painting." He breathed out, setting his case down and moving over to study the painting. Peter glanced at the club owner, surprised, before narrowing his eyes. This was suspicious... Too suspicious, his agent side decided.

"Why did you not mention it when we were talking about them?"

"I won't just give this up, Agent." Lucifer started. "If it falls into the wrong hands, the world might end, and none of us want that, do we?"

"You actually believe the curse?" Peter asked, incredulous and slightly amused. Lucifer looked shocked at the idea of not believing, and the agent nodded in understanding. Really, anyone that went by the name Lucifer Morningstar had to believe in religious curses and Armageddon.

"Neal believes it too, doesn't he?" Lucifer asked, and the two changed their gazes to Neal, who looked away from the painting. He gave a shrug, but seemed hesitant.

"Curse or not, it's still a valuable painting. A copy would be better, just in case."

"Then I'll get us some drinks, non-alcoholic, just for you two."

Lucifer wouldn't say he was upset at the lack of development, but he was... Disappointed. Not that he wanted his son to start spouting nonsense and try to destroy the world, but an informant, really? Like father, like son he supposed. 'Neal' had a life that seemed to have taken years to create- he wasn't too excited to bring about the end of the world, it seemed. He was reminded with a pang of guilt about the fact that his son had been on earth for years, and Lucifer hadn't even known, hadn't even checked once. For a lack of a better word, Neal was a mistake- the devil didn't plan to impregnate a mortal woman years ago and create the Antichrist. He was put up for adoption once his mother died in childbirth, and Lucifer assumed that would be it.

Neal was fine in his younger years, never a boy to throw tantrums, and so the family never knew of his set of... skills. But he was a hormonal and emotional teenager, as he neared thirteen. Things were being set on fire, people were spouting their secrets to him and he was using them for his own personal gain, and when one of the demons were sent to check up on him, they never returned. So Lucifer went in and did what he had to, to ensure that he didn't hurt anyone or do anything rash.

He locked Neal up on his fourteenth birthday. He didn't expect Neal to escape. The club owner made his way back up the stairs, pausing when he heard a conversation going on without him.

"It's just for a few hours, Neal, Decker says she found something she needed to show me-"

"Why can't I see it too?" He countered, and Peter rolled his eyes.

"I'll tell you about it after we're done. Really, you need to get over whatever your problem is with Morningstar, Neal. We're all working together until this case is over."

"Peter, please-" Lucifer knocked on the open door, where Neal and Peter paused in their conversation. They both glanced to him, the former shifting as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the latter stiff.

"Sorry, Mr. Morningstar-"

"Lucifer, please." He interrupted with a smile. Peter paused, before continuing, explaining the situation and vague details of what Detective Decker had told him.

"I'll have to leave you two for a while." He concluded, already at the door and grabbing his jacket. Peter didn't put it on- why was LA so _hot_? How could Neal still be wearing a suit outside?- but he gave a single wave goodbye, heading out the door and shutting it behind him. Neal moved his eyes from the closed door to Lucifer, staying uncharacteristically silent. Lucifer scoffed, setting the extra drinks to the side and taking a sip of his own. The artist went back to work.

"Really though, 'Neal?'" Lucifer asked, curious to see that the con artist was still steady with his hand, not applying any extra pressure to the painting even though he was obviously tense. "Was the name I bestowed upon you not good enough?"

Now it was Neal's turn to scoff. "You weren't particularly creative."

It was an insult, but he was talking, so Lucifer would count that as a win. He looked indignant, defending himself quickly. "Lucius is a wonderful name!"

"You just changed the ending of your name."

"Your mother wanted to name you Michael, you should be thankful that I was there to stop her from giving you that! Just imagine, the Antichrist with the name of my uptight brother." A flash of an indescribable emotion passed Neal's face, and Lucifer caught sight of it, amending his wording. "Even if you are not planning on bringing about the end of the world, you're still my son. You have the title of Antichrist, no matter what you do with said title."

"I'm surprised you aren't trying to make me cause the end of the world." His voice was softer, quiet. He set his paintbrush to the side, needing the first layer to dry as he stared. If he wanted, he could speed things up, but using any power on it terrified him- what if it made it so that the painting could work?

"Please, I grounded you so that you wouldn't bring about the end of the world-"

"Grounded?" He repeated, chuckling at the choice of words. Lucifer ignored him.

"I... like this place, believe it or not. And the humans are amusing." Neal couldn't help but agree to that. The two engaged in chatter about their respective sets of humans (and animals, though Neal doubted that "Trixie" was an energetic dog.).

Miles away, two officers did the same.

* * *

 **A/N: Should Maze be here? Her fate was left rather ambiguous at the end of Season 1, so she likely is still alive. But know that if she's involved I will somehow find a way to ship Maze and Diana.**


End file.
